


An Interruption

by redscout



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9943574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscout/pseuds/redscout
Summary: Medics tend to leave their medicine to the field. Well, if they can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> im gonna level with yall i wrote this last january as a straight up self indulgent sickfic and thats what it was last year and thats still what it is this year i need it out of my notes. enjoy

A medic's evening is best spent undisturbed. Ignoring the others, holing himself away in his room to read or, perhaps, experiment on something into the early hours. He was vividly aware of this want as dinner came to a close, and the selection of men in the RED base went their separate ways, some on their way to a nice bed, others preparing for Thursday's usual poker night. Medic was not one to gamble, and so left the atmosphere quickly with the intent of locking his door as soon as he entered his room.

Inside, however, he's surprised by a figure already in the space, and stops before locking himself in, staring the other man down-- Scout, evidently. His body language spells nervous, despite his, albeit strained-looking smile, and he lifts himself up on his toes over and over. The medic pauses, and then turns, waiting to hear his piece.

"Uh, hey, doc," are the first words to leave the scout's lips, quick, shaky. Medic squints testingly, nodding for him to go on. "You, uh. Busy right now?"

"No..." the other man responds gently, turning to face Scout fully. "You were not at dinner?"

"Haha, yeah, see, that's-- that's the thing," Scout begins, but pauses, his smile fading slightly. He holds up a finger to signal, _wait,_ and Medic does, watching closely as he wipes his brow with his free hand. "I think I might be sick." 

"Oh?" The comment is half-hearted, seeing as the taller man has already begun to move, shifting around the scout slowly, on his way to grab the trashcan. "Your diet, lately?"

Scout looks to respond, but, however, the medic can see he's a tad too late, and stops, Scout's signals changing dramatically. He seems to pause, staring at Medic, and he swallows once or twice. At once, his body convulses, and he doubles over, vomiting the contents of his stomach up right onto the floor, his hands stupidly poised to catch it on a whim. The older male watches, almost in interest, as he's seen this a million times before. Scout lifts up slightly, his breath hitching and his shoulders beginning to shake, and then leans down a second time, the spell of puke more violent, and longer this time. Medic takes a dull note of the sickly neon-green coloring to the throw up, the way it seems to continue to drip from the scout's mouth even as he ceases.

The rounds rack up, until Scout's on his knees, finishing out what seems like the last of his vomiting with a gentle whimper. He wipes his entire face down, despite the sick on his hands, hugging himself, and the doctor leans down to address him once more, arms behind his back.

"Diet, lately?" Scout looks up with tears in his eyes, and sniffs harshly, a continued tremble pervading his short speech.

"B-B-onk...?" The medic's expression slowly shifts into a smile, and he laughs, making Scout shrink further.

"Ooh, I thought as much! You dummkopf! I thought you were aware how bad that drink is for your insides! Especially a week of nothing but!" Scout seems to be listening, but he looks miserable, glancing away sheepishly. Medic's smile remains as he helps him to his feet, careful to avoid the slimy substance as best he can. It's unclear if Scout is finished even as he's standing, burping painfully into his hand as the medic pats him on the back.

"Now, now, before you--" He's cut off, and moves exactly a foot to the side as Scout hiccups, and heaves up another short helping of the green puke, wetter this time, and splashing down his front with a disgruntled and broken moan. They both wait for a small moment, and as the medic concludes he's (probably) finally done, he begins to lead him out of the room, smile never faltering.

"As I was saying. I suggest you put these clothes in the laundry room for Sunday, and then get yourself into bed, mein freund." Scout looks at him pitifully, moving as if he wants to respond, but Medic hushes him, continuing. "And get a breakfast tomorrow! Even if you are sick enough not to participate on the field, you must take care of yourself! Especially since this is the second time, now," he adds with a wink, and the scout groans lightly. 

They stand in the hallway a minute, examining either way if the walk back to the scout's room would be disturbed, but, seeing nothing, Medic ducks shortly back into his room, shouts, "Bed!" at the boy in the hallway, and then disappears behind the wood, locking it near instantly. Scout stands in disappointment for a moment, and then untucks his shirt, muttering unheard words to himself on the quiet, dismal march back to his room.


End file.
